


mistletoe

by aninternetfriend



Series: timeless [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Just Pain really, Pain, there is coma in it so, youve been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aninternetfriend/pseuds/aninternetfriend
Summary: "It's Christmas and with Emma not in his life anymore - yes, this is a euphemism - no words can describe the pain he feels."(written on christmas week 2014)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ignoring the terrible summary - and I am indeed surprised you clicked on the title despite that - hello. This was the 'last' chapter on Timeless before I put it on hiatus for like a month and gave up trying other stuff. In that time I started my multichapter - im proud of it please give it a read if you'd like - and tried to cope with not writing oneshots. Needless to say, I failed. 
> 
> Oneshot #40 in the original collection.

Every day, Killian Jones read his fiancée a page of her favourite book, talked about his day at work and kissed her goodnight. Every day, he kissed her hand as he recalled their first meeting. Every day, he remembered of how much he loved her.

No matter the time that passed, his love for Emma never wavered. He could be told by friends and acquaintances that one day, he would just slip out of it; but he couldn't take it.

He would never let go.

Coma does things to people. It breaks hearts, it corrupts friendships, it separates families. It makes people feel trapped and free at the same time. It makes bodies hollow and lifeless. It makes life die.

Despite all of it, Killian Jones would never give up on his love. He would come to the hospital every day and sit beside her bed. He would tell her stories, tales, gossips; he would kiss her forehead, her cheek, her hair and her lips. He would make her feel loved, even though he knew she wouldn't _feel_ at all.

It hurt more than it should, but he could cope with it. Her body wasn't dead; it still had the familiar warmth, the softness of her skin and the silkiness of her blonde hair. He could see her chest rising and falling; she was alive, but not really.

The doctors had confirmed her brain dead, though the rest of her body worked perfectly. He cherished the fact that her hands, face, arms, legs, fingers were still the same. His friends kept telling him he had nothing to cherish: Emma _wouldn't_ come back. He would just say he didn't care, because she was there.

She had been in a bus crash two years prior. Two people died, two were in a coma, six got out with bad injuries and the other eleven with light bruises. Killian never forgot the info on the accident. He never forgot the sirens and gatherings and screams and cries when he got to the hospital. He never forgot the feeling of desperation he felt when he saw her lying on that bed, lifeless, her right arm covered in red and a piece of glass the size of his hand coming out of her mid thigh. He felt dizzy and his knees wobbled because it was _Emma_ and she was dying. The heart monitor beeped steadily, but the doctor and three nurses around her had grave expressions on their faces.

She had to be taken to an operation room, where the nurses took him to a small side room with a glass window and a view to the operation table. He couldn't sit down, no matter how much his legs shook because he felt unquiet and anxious.

He watched as a doctor carefully pulled the piece of glass out of her leg with a pair of tweezers and placed it on a silver tray. He watched as they stitched the bruise up and treated her arm. He ran out of that confining space after they pushed her out and followed her bed to a private room, where he finally let his defensive walls down and cried next to her bed. He didn't let go of her hand as the tears shed, or any moment after.

Doctors frequently came into the room to check up on her, and they said she would wake up in a day or two. He cried again before he laid his head on the mattress and closed his eyes, exhaustion finally coming upon him.

She never woke up, though. As one of the doctors checked her vitals, the woman frowned when Emma didn't show signs of sleep, like movement under her eyelids. She got a pen - was it a pen? No, it was a tiny torch - and held Emma's lids open, wiggling the light in front of her eyes. He didn't see what made the doctor look so terrified, but he was sure his heart stopped beating when she declared Emma appeared to be in a coma.

The doctor had rushed out of the room, leaving Killian alone with Emma, to call other doctors. He cried again, and stopped sobbing once three other doctors came in - though the silent tears couldn't stop falling.

He watched as the doctors spoke in medical terms and furrowed when the woman explained him why Emma had slipped into a coma.

He had cried again three days later, when they said they were sure Emma had an extremely small chance of waking up. He sat by her when they moved her into another room, quieter and smaller.

Her family was devastated; her parents couldn't believe it at first, and came to visit her every day for nearly a year. Her friends visited her for a couple of months, but only Ruby kept coming until the eighth month. Only Killian came to see her after that. He was there, alone with her, for nearly two years, six hours a day, every day. He couldn't let go.

A few doctors and nurses knew him by name. No one checked up on her frequently because everyone knew she wouldn't wake up. He had seen a few nurses whispering to each other about him, how they admired a husband who would go see his wife every day even though she wouldn't see him. He never corrected them. He wished they had gotten married before the damned bus crashed.

He didn't tell anyone about how he slipped a golden band with a tiny diamond on it on her ring finger a month after her parents stopped making frequent visits. He didn't tell anyone about how he made his vows and swore never to abandon her. He didn't abandon her.

He stood up to the confrontations, to the fights, to Ruby moving, August's vice and Graham's heart attack. He didn't leave her side because he knew she wouldn't forgive him. But he also knew she would want him to let go. So he did what his heart told him and stayed at home for three nights. When the feeling of her palm against his, the sound of her steady breaths and the sight of her features were too much for him to handle, he saw himself walking into the hospital's lounge. He decide to shrug and continue.

 

* * *

 

It was his second Christmas without her and the pain was alemost too much.

His mind kept replaying the sight of her in a big sweater, the smell of her hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon and the feeling of peace and bliss. He kept remembering past Christmases with her and his heart ached every time he did it. His eyes watered every time he thought about her smile, her laughter, the light in her eyes when she was happy. His throat closed every time he missed her.

He brought her a present, one that he knew she would have liked.

"Evening, love," he whispered to her, getting a seat on the armchair next to her bed and grabbing her hand. "It's going to be Christmas in a few hours, and I bought you something."

He pulled out a box tied with a ribbon from his backpack. "I don't know if you're going to like it, because you're unconscious forever, but screw it."

He untied the ribbon and opened the box, revealing a branch of mistletoe. " _Oh my_ , it's a mistletoe. Who would have known?," he chuckled. His vision was suddenly blurred by tears and he sighed. "You would've laughed at that."

A sob escaped his lips and he inwardly slapped himself. _Be strong for her._

Sniffling, he stood up and tied the mistletoe to the headboard filled with buttons and panels. He lingered his look on it before turning it to her _sleeping_ face. The tears welled up in his eyes again and he couldn't keep it in.

"Gods, I miss you so much, Emma," he croaked out, lifting his hand to her cheek and brushing his knuckles against it. It felt so soft. "You have no idea of how much I miss you, love. I'd do anything to hear you laugh again, to see you smile." The corner of his wobbling lips tugged up. "It would give me life."

"I feel _empty_ , now, Swan. Emptier than ever. I feel lonely. I want to feel your arms around me but I can't. Because you can't wake up." Another sobs followed before he could pull himself together to say something else. "I miss your voice, your laugh, your smell, your eyes. I miss you, more than I've ever had."

"August, Ruby and Graham are gone. Robin's always with Regina and Vic's depressed because he couldn't move with Ruby. I haven't heard of your parents for months... Elsa went back to Europe, by the way. I talked to her last week, but you don't _bloody_ care. I have no one. You being partially alive is what keeps me here. Don't you _ever_ go." He saw as one of his tears fell on her cheek and he wiped it off with his thumb. He suddenly chuckled humourlessly. "At least I quit drinking. I knew you wouldn't forgive me."

His lower lip trembled as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, another sob escaping him before he could contain it. "Merry Christmas, Emma."

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I was yelled at because of this whats your point


End file.
